Behind the Curtains
by 2late2begin
Summary: During the events of Winter Soldier where were the other Avengers?


**Alrighty, this is a little story I came up with when watching Winter Soldier for the first time. (Ya I know this is super late since I saw it opening day but better late then never) I mean the entirety of Shield was collapsing so this involved the others just as much as Steve and Nat. I am actually posting this for two reasons. **

**1) My computer got semi fried and deleted my typing program so I can't finish typing up the next chap of my other Avengers fic "Fallen Soldiers" like I had planned to. **

**2) I wanted to see what kind of reception this would get so I know to keep writing it.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own any characters or Marvel, but I do believe I still own my mind and ideas and anything they produce such as plots and OC's**

**Chapter 1**

_**Unknown Location on Asian Continent **_

_**0500 **_

_**Clint Barton Codename: Hawkeye**_

"Target terminated."

Agent Clint Barton, also known as Hawkeye stood up from where he had crouched, concealed for the past seventy minutes. He winced slightly at the stiffness in his muscles and began to trek back to where the rest of the dispatch would be waiting by the Quin Jet. This had been his first solo mission in a while, and he felt slightly disappointed by the lack of action. A simple assassination, nothing quite as extravagant as his work with the Avengers, but to be expected. Not all criminals took out entire cities.

He had just breached the treeline, the Quin-jet resting just ahead when without warning there was a shout and the entire craft erupted in flames. The shock almost knocked the archer off his feet as he desperately turned away from the explosion. After a moment his brought his gaze back to the smoldering remains of what had once been his ride out of this place. His eyes narrowed at the sound of several soft clicks.

"Well gentlemen to what do I owe the pleasure of this extravagant welcome back?"

One of the Shield agents, if that's what they even were, stepped into his line of sight, gun pointed directly at his chest.

"Agent Clint Baton we are going to have to ask you to drop all of your weapons and surrender quietly."

Clint snarled slightly at that.

"Under whose authority?"

The man smirked at that and stepped forward threateningly.

"Mine."

Clint smiled coldly at that. "I'm sorry, but I don't recognize that." With a smooth practiced motion two small handguns had been drawn and the man before him was dead, but Clint was already moving, rolling to the side to avoid the fire of the other turncoats.

A quick glance at the puffs of dirt was all he needed to know where the others stood, and within mere moments two more had fallen.

A movement to his left caused him to sweep his leg back, knocking the feet out from yet another assailant as he tried to grab the sharp shooter from behind.

He turned ready to finish the man off when machine gun fire began to pepper the area to his right forcing him to instead grab the man and throw him up as shield of sorts, making a dash for the trees.

A few feet from the border of the clearing he discarded the body, feeling one of the bullets graze the top of his left shoulder, and took a rolling dive into the undergrowth. He ran quickly and silently, looping around till he was a few yards behind where he estimated the final shooter to be. He quickly slowed his pace and evened his breathing, making sure that his approach would go unnoticed till it wouldn't matter anymore.

He crept forward, with each step measured precisely for optimum balance and silence, till he stood just a yard or so from the other, who was crouched tense and alert. Clint carefully pocketed his remaining gun, the other had been dropped in favor of his meat shield earlier. This man was good, and the excess noise of loading it would give the man plenty of time to react. Instead he pulled out one of the small knives that Natasha had given him for his birthday.

Shifting slightly to give his arm more room he carefully lined himself up and with a deft flick sent the deadly projectile into the other mans throat. The other spasmed and in turn pulled the trigger of his machine gun, spraying the surrounding trees and barely missing the small patch of shrubbery where Clint still stood. After a few moments though the others grip went slack and the Shield agent finally allowed himself to relax.

Picking his way through the brush he stooped down next to the dead man and removed his dagger, whipping it on his pants before placing it back into its compartment. He then began to search the mans pockets looking for something that would allow him to identify who this man really was or who he worked for.

Finally he came across a small identification badge, the cover proudly displaying the Shield insignia. He flipped the small book open and looked at the card within, pausing for a moment in confusion as instead of finding a random stolen id, he found a standard Shield identification with this mans exact face on it.

_Robert Colts_

He immediately began to check for any signs of forgery or tampering to the card before he was finally forced to admit that this wasn't just some radical from an apposing group, this man had been a Shield agent.

His shoulder was starting to sting now, but he paid it little mind as he made his way back into the clearing where, after checking all the other men's identification cards, realized that the entire team had been Shield operatives.

His own men had turned on him.

With this knowledge he immediately retrieved his other gun and a radio from one of the downed men and headed back into the trees, knowing he needed to get out of the area fast.

This had been a planned assault and he would bet his favorite bow that there was something bigger happening just behind this and, from what it seemed, within Shield. Which in turn meant that whoever was organizing it had him right where they wanted him, alone in a remote area with no way to get back.

An hour later found him a good mile or two from where they Quin jet had been. It would be enough for now. He carefully settled down under a thick overhang of trees in a thicket of sorts. Pulling out the small mad kit he had become accustomed to carrying he pulled out the small disinfectant wipe and began to dab out the gash where the bullet had caught him. Though it had almost stopped bleeding by now he knew better then to leave it open.

After he had covered it with a piece of gauze and bandage. After he had finished that he began to carefully rewire the radio he had taken from one of the men back at the clearing. After a few minutes of tinkering he experimentally switched it on. It buzzed to life and Clint allowed himself a small smirk. Stark would be happy to know he had been paying attention to his rants.

He quickly opened a channel.

"This is Agent Clint Barton. Natasha do you copy?"

He was only met with silence.

A few more tries yielded the same response as did his attempts to contact Agent Hill and Director Fury and even Captain Rogers.

Growling in frustration he switched the frequency and tried one last channel.

"Stark this is Agent Barton, are you receiving?"

After this too was met with silence he was about to cut the link when suddenly a falsely cheerful voice drifted through the earpiece.

_**"Heya Legolas, about time you called me back!"**_

Clint recognized what the billionaire was doing almost immediately, his tone of voice a dead give away, and played along.

"Yeah sorry about that, been kinda busy, haven't had much of a chance to chat, but I'm free now."

_**"Nah no problem, I know you are a busy guy, I'm the same way!"**_

"You haven't had a busy day in your life Stark."

The other laughed before suddenly cutting off.

_**"Okay the line is secure, we can talk now."**_

* * *

_**So that's a thing. Like it? Hate it? Leave a comment and let me know! Also don't be afraid to fave and alert~**_


End file.
